Shiny and New
by BehindEvilThoughts
Summary: After many more years of isolation, Edward slowly begins to remember his past. And soon after, a mysterious visitor arrives at the Castle. This is my favorite film of all time so I tried very hard to do the characters justice. Please let me know if I succeeded. I do plan to write more chapters so constructive criticism is welcome. I own nothing. No copyright intended.
1. Chapter 1

Dusk.

The bright colours of the pastel world faded away into dim blue and violet skies. There was a faint, calming breeze underway that rustled the trees and bushes outside of the Castle gardens.

A single, yellow butterfly fluttered its way through the rusted, iron gates and into the green garden. It grazed the many large, hedge animals until at last slowing to a stop as it found a suitable place to rest.

The butterfly had landed on the edge of a metal blade, where an index finger ought to have been but was never put in place. The creature who the blade was attached to, raised it upwards to gain a better look at the small insect which had made a temporary home of it. Dark, glassy eyes looked inquisitively at it. A small, curious smile tugged on the edge of pale, purple lips.

Edward carefully walked over to a nearby patch of vermillion flowers and lowered the razors down towards it. This gesture encouraged the butterfly to fly off of the blade and into the bed of flowers. The young man gave a satisfied smile and stood up straight again.

His gaze carried upwards, seeing now that the light of the sun had completely vanished, leaving a starless sky in it's wake.

After observing this darkness, Edward turned away and retreated back into the massive stone castle behind him. It had fallen into bad disrepair, as the grounds had become completely forgotten by the world as time had carried onward. But no matter how incomplete, it was still his one, and only home.

As the unfinished man walked up the stairs to the attic floor, he wondered just how many times he had done so. One thought led to another and Edward suddenly became very aware that although he did not know exactly how many years had passed, he knew that a great deal of time had gone by since his creator had gone to sleep and never woke up.

Slumping down into the tattered old chair beneath the fireplace, Edward began to think about the past. All of the little moments and trials which had brought him to this point in time.

He vaguely recalled the day he had first come alive in this place, of course the memory was unclear and hazy, like trying to recall a dream that only grows fainter with every passing moment.

However, he received a small vision of the distant retention. A head attached to a limbless torso laying flat on a table in some small corner of the castle. The eyes of the head slowly twitched open, unfocused and glassy like the eyes of a porcelain doll.

A tall figure was approaching him, but strangely he felt no fear. In fact, he was rather comforted by the sound of the old man's voice, which reassured him in the silent dark of the castle.

"Hello, Edward." Said the old man as he approached the side of the table and looked down with affection at the partially assembled creation before him.

"Don't be afraid." He said gently. "I am your father."

Edward snapped out of his trance and back into the present. He gave a small sigh which was barely audible next to the sound of the howling wind outside.

What was this emotion that Edward was feeling? He had felt it before but he couldn't place it. Alas, there were many feelings which his creator had never told him the name of.

He felt distant and absent. Like something was missing. Something he had before but now no longer.

Edward couldn't have known that what he was feeling was profound loneliness, and mixed in with it, the pain of loss.

He had lost his father, and the hands he was meant to have. Then his friends.

Then Kim.

Edward wasn't sure how much more loss he could take, though he did not have much left to lose.


	2. Chapter 2

_I am Silver and Exact_

 _I have no preconceptions_

 _Whatever you see, I swallow immediately_

 _Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike_

Edward shuffled across the chamber silently in the dim of the Castle. A blue beam of pale moonlight was shining in through a tall window. Soft gusts of air blew through the curtains gently, giving faint whispers of memory to the unfinished man.

With dark, nearly black eyes he quietly examined the old, silent machines in the main chamber. They had become still and motionless, just like their now deceased creator.

Edward was not quite sure how the idea had come to be in his mind, but it occurred to him that he had never attempted to try and bring these old contraptions back to life.

Starting from one end of the assembly line to the other, Edward slowly walked along beside it while scanning the metal works for any kind of button, trigger or switch. Thus far, there were none to be found.

It was also most inopportune that he had chosen to search for this during the late hours of the night. He could barely see any of the inner workings of these machines in the dark.

However, on the very start of the line, right underneath the piece of track where a large silver bowl sat empty, there was a very dusty yet discernible red button. It took a bit of time for Edward to properly manipulate his sharp, metal talons into just the right position, but eventually, he was able to push one down onto the button.

At first, nothing happened. Only a cold and disquieting silence followed Edward's efforts to bring his creator's machines back to life.

His chin slowly dropped down to his chest as he stared at the floor, becoming nearly motionless himself.

Then, all at once…there was a loud, clanking sound like one thousand metal pins all clashing around inside a deep steel can.

With a slow, stuttering start the assembly line began to move again, along with all of the rusty and red-eyed robots that were attached to it. The larger, sphere-like machines shook and whirred with activity. Large puffs of steam and smoke blew out underneath from their exhausts.

Edward took a few steps back in awe as he beheld the majesty and technical excellence of his father's machines. Every working metal piece moving in harmony with the rest to achieve perfect unison.

He allowed himself a small smile of accomplishment.

Soon enough, several rows of perfectly cut pastries began rolling off the end of the line once again. Edward had to work very fast to snip the ties on the bags at the end to make sure the cookies did not begin to spill onto the floor. Thankfully, his efforts were rewarded in time and the confections began to plop down into the bags.

Out of curiosity, Edward stuck one of his metal shears into the bag and skewered one of the star-shaped pastries. Lifting it up to his mouth, he took a bite but found that it didn't taste quite as he had imagined. It had lost so much of its flavour due to the flour within it having sat un-used somewhere for many decades.

With some difficulty, Edward gently forced the half-eaten cookie off of his metal shear and back into the bag.

He clicked his tongue a few times with a small frown, trying to rid the flavor of spoiled flour from his mouth.

Approaching the worn and dusty old chair by his creator's desk, Edward sat down and watched contently as the machines began to buzz and whirr with life once more.

The sounds of it were familiar and comforting. They eased him back to better days.

Edward was watching with great interest as the Inventor began to fasten his arm to his torso. Strapping belts and buckles over top of one another until they were bound to his leather flesh perfectly. Suturing the final bit to his shoulder with some simple sewing thread, the old man finished his work. Removing his glasses and setting them down beside him, he leaned back and smiled at his handiwork.

"There. Now that's much better, isn't it?"

Edward looked down at his new limb and nodded in agreement. He slowly lifted it up, examining every stitch and patchwork that had been lovingly given to him. He was becoming less of a machine and more of a man with each passing day.

Save for one crucial thing, of course.

At the end of the new appendage were five silver blades where a hand and fingers were supposed to be. He could not do much with it yet. In fact, only one of them seemed to snip properly. But it was better than the absence of a limb, which Edward had grown accustomed to.

"I know it's crude, my boy…. but hands are such…. tricky things." The old man admitted with a faint sigh.

"But these will suffice, hm? After all, you'll only have to wait until Christmas." He promised with a smile.

Edward did not know what Christmas was, but he simply stared back at his creator with an inoffensive gaze.

"It won't be long now, Edward. Your legs are almost done. And then we'll have you up and running around the place in no time. You'll see." The old man chirped with a grin.

Edward affectionately copied it.

Feeling himself slipping back into the present again, Edward began to realize how different he really was from the rest of his father's creations. They smiled but they did not talk. They moved but they were not alive.

There was one machine towards the back corner of the room which Edward thought bore some resemblance to himself. However, it was vague and faceless. It was hard to see a soul within such cold and vacant metal.

All of them seemed to be missing the one thing which Edward knew made him stand apart from them, though he did not quite understand what that something was. Nor could he identify it.

The rustling of paper caught his attention and he looked to his right to find a large book propped up against an easel.

Edward stood up and walked towards it to examine it more closely. He exhaled, blowing a layer of dust off of it and into the air. As the particles floated through the beam of moonlight from the window, Edward struggled to see what the book entailed.

Slowly but surely, he eventually recognized the drawings in the book as himself, down to the most intricate details. Every buckle, every strap, every piece of leather and every stitch had been meticulously conceived through paper and pencil, long before this drawing had manifested itself into a living, tangible form.

As Edward began (with some difficulty) to turn the pages back, he found that the image of himself was becoming harder to recognize until he failed to see himself within it at all. The first drawing was just a metal husk with some leather limbs attached. Edward felt a bit uneasy at its appearance, unable to conceive that it was the skeleton which supported his body.

He flipped the page forward again, this time coming to a page which was much more detailed. Layers of synthetic skin had been added on top of the husk, along with metal gears and other small, various working parts within his chest cavity.

Edward's dark eyes landed upon the most mysterious part of the drawing, which was the slightly circular, red object lodged in the upper left of his body and fastened down with a strap.

Quirking a brow, Edward looked down at himself with curiosity.

He wanted to see what this object looked like.

Slowly raising a metal shear, Edward placed one of the blades under one of the belts that were bound across his chest. But before he could snip it off, a sudden loud sound startled and forced him to look at the machines in alarm.

The cookie assembly had juttered to an unexpected halt. It was likely broken forever, now. Having been suddenly forced back into use after so many years of lying dormant had apparently killed whatever power it still had within its innards.

Edward gave a small sad look towards it. Finding that once again, he was the only one of his father's creations that still worked.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note: I just wanted to take a moment to thank all of the people so far who have left some very kind reviews for this story. Some of them have disabled messaging so regrettably, I am unable to thank them directly. Whoever you are: you have my sincerest appreciation. From the bottom of my heart: thank you!

 _And he is free, strangely without me_

 _With his head still browsing the greenness,_

 _He walks slowly out of the pasture,_

 _To enter the sun of his story_

It did not seem to matter how many hours ticked by, Edward never really felt the urge to sleep. He had found that he didn't really need it. He could go a great many days without resting at all if need be.

The same could be said for food. While he was living with Kim and her family, Edward had never refused a meal given to him and ate it gladly out of politeness. But he never required it.

It was a strange thing to behold. Before Peg Boggs had taken him down to the Suburbs, Edward thought he was the same as any other person, save for his hands. (Or lack of.) But of course, it wasn't until he actually began to live among others when it occurred to Edward just how differently his body worked.

He did not need sleep. He did not need sustenance. But most puzzling of all, he never seemed to age.

Age is what had taken the life of his creator. Perhaps it was just as well that he had left Edward without it. Though now it seemed that his son had been left incomplete in more ways than one.

Was there anything outside or within Edward that made him human at all?

Or was he simply another one of his father's machines, made to spring to life like a clockwork toy?

Furthermore, how many pieces had been put together and taken apart just to make him? How many failed attempts and wasted time did it take for Edward to become exactly as he was now?

How many versions of him had been built, only to be destroyed, to pave the way for his existence?

In an attempt to quiet these rising, existential thoughts…. Edward found himself leaving the darkness of his castle and stepping out into the light of the garden.

It was early morning. The sun was just rising, casting painful beams upon Edwards gaunt and ghostly countenance.

Edward averted his eyes to slink away into the shadow of the Castle. He had grown so accustomed to sunlight, only to be repelled by it once again.

But once his dark eyes did adjust to the light before him, he found that his garden animals had fallen into an unkempt state.

Edward soon managed to put his loud mind to rest as he lost himself in his work, busily trimming and cutting away at the stray branches and leaves which had grown on his many creations.

By the time he had snipped the last leaves from the large, green stag, he had almost forgotten what had troubled his mind so.

It was now mid-day and the heat was becoming faintly intolerable. The suburban warmth did not agree with the dark, black leather which bound his form together.

Edward took a seat on the steps of the Castle and studied his handiwork with a small smile. It was a clear day. The baby blue sky opened up and gave Edward a lovely vision of the town below.

The town which had once welcomed him, only to turn him away.

It still made Edward sad to think about it from time to time. But the pain of rejection and isolation had been dulled by the passage of time.

Soon enough, Edward's mind came back (as it often did) to his creator. If he could tell him all which had happened down there, he surely would. He wondered just what would the old man have thought?

There were parts of the tale which Edward was certain the Inventor would have loved to have heard. How he had made so many friends…. even a girl who had once told Edward she loved him.

But Edward's memory soon and inevitably landed upon the fight which had taken place in the attic of his father's home. With a shameful glance, he looked up at the shattered window above his head.

He could still find bits of broken glass in the garden if he looked hard enough.

Everything had happened so fast. Edward hadn't really meant to kill anyone….

But it had happened all the same.

Dropping his gaze down to his knees in shame, Edward gave a long sigh. If Jim had not died on these grounds, things might have turned out very differently. But thanks to his misplaced protectiveness for Kim, he had condemned himself to a lifetime on this hill, at the very least.

Perhaps in one hundred years, when everyone within living memory of the incident was dead and gone, maybe then Edward could go down to that town again and reintroduce himself to the populace.

Start over, as though nothing had ever happened.

But for now, Edward did nothing more but close his eyes and breath in the fresh, mid-day breeze.

He was traveling backwards again.

A brand-new pair of legs had allowed Edward to wander out the front door of the Castle and into the garden. As he stepped out into that light, so many bright and alluring colours assaulted his senses at once. A bird flew fast upwards, drawing Edward's gaze up to it. And up there, he saw a great, blue canvas bending far over him, stretching and spiraling into endlessness. The rays of the sun caressed Edward's face with much-needed warmth.

The bright colours of the autumn day were reflecting and swirling in his wide and curious eyes, beholding its beauty with a look of pure joy. He could barely discern all of the beauty before him.

Standing by the castle steps, the Inventor had been quietly watching his creation in the shadow of the tall mansion with a bright smile on his old face. To witness Edward as he looked upon the world for the very first time was something he feared he would not live to see.

How wonderful it was...just this once, to be wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors note:** Hello everyone. I had uploaded some new chapters but I just took them both down because I wasn't happy with how the story was progressing. The chapter you are about to read (4) is more or less the same as it was, just with the ending altered slightly. My apologies for any confusion this might have caused.

Happy reading!

 _Say not in grief that she is no more,_

 _But say in thankfulness that she was._

Despite the many long years during which the old Castle had sat, seemingly empty and abandoned, for one reason or another…. the newspaper was still delivered to the gates just outside of the castle every other morning.

For years, Edward had made it a coveted ritual to take these papers and cut parts of them out as he saw fit. Pictures that he liked, pictures that amused him.

Somehow, they made him feel less alone.

He shuffled curiously towards the gates one clear morning, finding that a newspaper roll had been delivered to the gates once again. Though Edward did not know how they kept appearing, he was very thankful for them.

He had mastered the art of balancing the rolled newspaper on top of his wrists. In this way, he was able to carry them back inside and up the steps to his place in the attic.

Snipping off the rubber band which held the roll in place, Edward managed to expertly roll out the paper onto the floor. Crouching down in front of it, his knees tucked into his chest, Edward's eyes began to scan the paper for any pictures of interest or any curiosity which he could add to his collage below the fireplace.

There wasn't much today, however. The usual Avon ads and stock lists. Edward was slightly disappointed, but not discouraged.

He continued to carefully flip the pages as best he could, reading each one carefully. At last, he landed on the obituary pages.

And it was there, on the top right of the page where he saw her name.

KIMBERLY ANNE BOGGS

DEVOTED WIFE AND GRANDMOTHER, PASSED AWAY PEACEFULLY IN HER SLEEP AT 85.

Edward froze, becoming as still and lifeless as the machines in the chamber below.

As though against his will, his eyes suddenly cast upwards, looking upon the exact spot in the attic room where she had kissed him.

To Edward, it had not felt so long ago when they had said goodbye to one another, for the first and last time.

But now she was gone.

Kim was gone.

His heart felt very heavy. It was an unbearable weight which pulled Edward down to his knees onto the dusty floor. The thin and tattered leather body sank with despair, like a stone plummeting to the bottom of the ocean. Though Edward had never been taught how to cry (and had indeed begun to believe he was not capable of it) he found that large drops of water were now falling from his dark eyes at a rate he couldn't control.

Edward cried for a very long time until it no longer served him to do so.

Though he did not know what this feeling was, he knew that he no longer wanted it.


	5. Chapter 5

5

 _For a brief moment,_

 _Beauty is part of our world, and then it leaves._

 _And though we wish it could have stayed,_

 _We feel so lucky to have seen it._

Edward sat on the narrow steps on the east side of the Castle. He had been there since the morning and had barely stirred since, not even to blink. He simply stared at the blue horizon beyond the small town below, his gaze was hazy and unfocused, dwelling on memories long since past.

 _Goodbye._

 _I love you._

The knowledge of Kim's passing had struck his heart with a heavy blow. He did not know if he would ever recover from it. Thinking of the past was something Edward caught himself doing often. But he had never wished so badly to bury himself within his warm and happy memories of Kim so much as he did now.

It was in times like these when Edward found himself feeling even more alone than usual, that he deeply missed his creator. Sometimes he could still hear his voice in his mind, speaking to him with that fatherly cadence which had comforted young Edward while he was still being made.

It was enough to nearly make Edward believe that the old man had not died but had merely slipped into the next room. Standing just out of sight somewhere, behind a corner of stone perhaps.

But of course, Edward knew that couldn't be true.

On the edge of this hour of early twilight, the unfinished creature sat alone and disillusioned. His head lowered down into his lap in defeat. The scissors on each of his arms hung limp and lifeless down at his sides.

Just then, a butterfly, the very same one which had paid Edward a visit just a few days ago…. came fluttering by once again, landing on one of his metal shears. It remained completely unaware of the danger the blades held, and the harm they had done. The butterfly did not care.

It was simply grateful to have found a place to rest its tired wings.

Edward raised the shear carefully up to his face and examined the butterfly. He found himself smiling at it once again. He wasn't even sure why.

Perhaps it was simply a comfort that another living creature did not show fear at the sight of Edward's monstrous-looking hands. That it accepted his presence without complaint or caution and simply carried on as normal.

As the butterfly began to fly away, Edward felt a warm glow rise within him. He couldn't have understood it, but this feeling was hope. Optimism. Anticipation for the future.

Slowly standing up and taking in the beauty of the night around him, Edward found himself wandering into the garden and beholding a shrub which he had not yet seen before. It was blank and shapeless, a perfect conduit for his inspiration.

Forming an image in his mind, Edward began to cut at the large green bush. Hours passed into night, but through the glow of the moon, Edward could still look upon his work, pausing every now and again to make sure the proportions were correct.

By dawn, he had finished his newest creation.

A tall green bush in the shape of a girl, raising her hand skyward to touch the falling snow. It was a perfect and lovely image of Kim, just as Edward remembered her.

Edward stood back and smiled at his new sculpture as the morning sun rose up behind it, casting a golden light down upon all of the garden creations and imbuing them with life.

Kim would never really be gone, so long as Edward was around.

He had found a way to keep her alive forever.

End of Part 1


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors Note** : Hello again. After much debate, I finally decided to split this story into two parts. I hope you enjoy what's coming next! Be well 😊\

Part 2

6

 _And so, I close my eyes to old ends,_

 _And open my heart to new beginnings_

"This is it. Pull over, please."

The bright yellow taxi pulled up to the furthest end of the cul-de-sac, in the shadow of the great hill that sat before it.

Greta stepped out of the car and slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder. She was dressed in the drab uniform of an elite private school. A black skirt, shoes and matching black blouse, with a white-collar peaking over the neck of the garment. Long, brown bangs swept past her bright, blue eyes which gazed up and upwards until at last landing upon the great, stone castle at the top.

This was definitely the right place.

"Here. Keep it." She said to the driver while handing him a generous amount of dollar bills.

As the taxi sped off, Greta sighed quietly and began to walk towards the gate. She felt no warm welcome beneath the ghastly stone creature atop of the fallen iron gate, but she had come too far now to turn back.

The trek up the mountain was difficult. Greta had to take many breaks to catch her breath before finally reaching the summit. Seeing the top of the castle through the trees above her was enough to keep her going. Upon reaching the gates just outside of the garden, her pace had slowed to a stop.

She had to pause to admire the grand majesty that towered over her.

It was a truly marvelous sight to behold. Eccentric and mysterious, just like the man who had once lived there.

Taking in an anxious breath, Greta pushed past the gate, finding to her delight many various garden animals before her. She smiled in amusement.

It made her quite happy to see that someone was still upkeeping the grounds, even after all this time.

But she had not come here to admire the topiary. Her reasons for being here were personal.

Hesitating slightly, she gave the front door a knock. A part of her did not expect an answer. But perhaps a servant still lived here, most likely the gardener by the state of things.

Greta paused for good measure. However, when at least a good minute passed, Greta knocked again and waited patiently. She was not nervous. In fact, quite the contrary. She was rather excited to enter the old building.

All of his work had to still be here. She was almost certain of it. And there was just no knowing what she would find.

No comprehending the vast amount of secrets and research that could be counted.

The door remained silent and unyielding in her presence, however. At this, Greta decided to open the door herself.

Pushing it open, the hinges squawked loudly on their ancient hinges. A beam of sunlight shot into the darkness of the castle chamber from outside.

Stepping into the dark, Greta examined the surroundings with an intensely curious gaze. There seemed to be no sign of life here at all.

Had it been completely abandoned?

From the top of the stairs, Edward cautiously poked his head out from behind the upstairs wall. He was awfully surprised to see a young woman standing where these days strangers were too fearful to venture to.

To him, she didn't look a day over Kim's age. Or at least, the age she had been so long ago. And for just the briefest moments, by a trick of the eyes or his heart, Edward believed that she was Kim.

However, the sunlight that was creeping inwards from outside revealed to him that she had locks of brown, not blonde…as Kim had.

A look of disappointment briefly crossed his pale features, feeling pitiful and senseless for having ever believed, even for an instant that it might have been her. Though he was still nonetheless alarmed by another's presence within the castle.

Seeing a shadow on the ground, Greta gave a startled gasp and turned around quickly, only to see that behind her was a large, stone phantom, with long, spindly sharp fingers stretching out from either side of it; the length of the steel staircase railing wrapped around it.

She frowned and took a moment to collect herself.

Her great-uncle certainly had dubious taste in interior décor.

Greta's eyes now landed upon the great silent factory which was adorned with cob webs. Edward's brief resurrection of it had made it look more recently used, however that still did not explain the amount of dust and decay elsewhere.

Her eyes landed on the large book which had been propped up against an easel, by an old and cluttered desk.

With ever-growing fasciation, Greta slowly approached it. Slinging her bag off of her shoulder and placing it down at her feet. She began to slowly flip through the pages, reading every hastily scribbled note with great attention.

Greta smiled softly to herself, beholding the ancient information in her hands like a cherished relic. It had become clear through the notes and drawings that the Inventor who once lived here, her great uncle, had made plans to make an artificial man. In the top right corner of one of the drawings, was a single name quickly scratched onto the parchment in black ink.

 _EDWARD._

Such a concept was certainly wonderful to imagine and would have no doubt, been a marvelous thing to see upon completion. Sadly, it seemed to her that his plans had never come to fruition. There was no finished man in sight.

It was still a brilliant dream, in any case.

In any case, Greta gently took the large book off of the easel and closed it. She held it very carefully, as though afraid that the old parchment would come undone if she handled it too severely.

However, as her eyes landed upon the window in front of her, she saw the reflection of a human figure in the glass, standing close behind her. A feeling of panic suddenly seized Greta and she let out a small scream of surprise, quickly turning around to face the elusive stranger. However, she had just enough wits about her to keep the book held securely in her hands.

Edward staggered back in a panic, lost his balance and fell over behind the large oven at the end of the conveyor belt. He then disappeared out of sight altogether, slinking away into the dark like a great black spider.

Once Greta had recovered from the shock, she had opened her eyes just enough to see a man in all black creep away into the shadows of the castle chamber. Her mouth still partially hanging open in surprise, she scanned the room for any signs of movement, finding that there was none to be seen.

The shadows in this place were awfully frightening. Perhaps her mind only played a cruel joke on her.

She sighed and slowly collected herself, sweeping a brown lock of hair behind her ear. Still holding the book close to her, Greta slowly walked alongside the cookie conveyor belt, looking in both directions for any signs of life.

"Uh…h…hello?" She called out into the dark, her voice still trembling slightly from the surprise of the encounter.

"Is…is someone there? Look, I'm…. I'm really sorry if I scared you. I just…. I didn't think anyone was still living here." She said earnestly, bending down to check beneath the machinery, but found only more webs and dust.

As she neared the start of the line, she had nearly given up the effort of a search, chalking up what she saw to simply a deception of her eyes within such a dark place.

However, a distinct snipping sound kept her interest within the chamber. As she slowly walked around one of the sphere-like machines, she found Edward kneeling down in the corner, in between the wall and the machine, trembling and snipping his scissor-like hands nervously.

He had buried his head down into his lap. In this moment, Edward looked very much like a child, who believed that if he could not see the stranger which had entered his home, then she could not see him.

Greta had not yet seen the sharp blades where Edward's hands ought to have been. She quietly cleared her throat and tried instead to get his attention.

"Um…hello?" She asked carefully.

Like a marionette which had suddenly been pulled up by a string, Edward's head shot upwards to look at Greta. The face which stared back at her startled her and she took a small step backwards. The dark, almost black eyes looking at her from their sunken, purple sockets was disturbing enough. But Greta's eyes inevitably looked down in terror at the long, sharp, metal talons where hands were supposed to be. It was unusual and frightening all at once.

"Those are your…" She began in a hushed and incredulously voice but couldn't quite bring herself to finish. As she stared in apprehension at the creature bound in leather before her, it suddenly occurred to her that he looked very familiar.

Raising an eyebrow slightly, Greta slowly opened the Inventor's book and flipped to the page she had stopped on.

There was an elegant drawing of the exact man that was crouching in the dark in front of her. More or less complete, save for one thing.

Greta looked up from the book and back at the unfinished man in utter amazement. With hesitation, she slowly took a step towards him.

"Is your name…. Edward?"


	7. Chapter 7

7

Edward stared up at the strange girl in his home, shaking like a leaf and cowering like a child. The shadows which danced upon his ghostly face made him appear elusive and sinister.

But this was simply another deception. Edward was harmless. Even Greta, who had only been given a few short moments to know him, could see this plainly.

After a long moment of paralyzing silence, Edward, at last, gave a small nod of his head in response to her question. Though he stared up at Greta with deep uncertainty, as though afraid she might attack him.

Greta moved slowly and cautiously towards the leather creature in front of her, fearing the same of him.

Turning the book around in her hands so that the pages now faced Edward, she pointed to one of the sketches within it.

"This. This is you?" Greta clarified again, just for good measure.

Edward inspected the drawing carefully, finding that it showed a perfect resemblance to himself. He slowly nodded again.

"Yes…" He answered quietly.

Upon seeing his response, a slow smile of understanding crept upon Greta's face as she found that she was no longer afraid of Edward, but rather…. fascinated beyond belief by his very existence.

"Oh my god…" She exclaimed slowly in astonishment and placed the book down in front of her.

"He did it…. he actually did it!" She exclaimed in excitement. Her loud voice echoed across the chamber for many moments before receding back into silence. Edward was reassured by her smile but remained the smallest bit frightened by the loud sounds she made.

What untold knowledge it must have taken to create life itself, she could only wonder. But she had time to find out. And was fiercely excited at the prospect of learning her ancestor's secrets.

Greta had so many questions for Edward. But upon observing how shy he was in her presence, she thought it best to ask them slowly, so as not to overwhelm him.

"How…how long have you been here?" She asked curiously, now kneeling down in front of the unfinished man, staring intently at him.

Regrettably, Edward had no idea. There were no clocks or calendars in the Castle. If his creator had had some way to tell the time, he would not know of it.

"I…I don't know…" He responded truthfully.

Greta took a good, long look at Edward's face, inspecting every detail and amazed at how utterly life-like he was. No one would ever suspect that he was artificial. Edward watched her gawk at him with wide and confused eyes.

Based on how gaunt looking his face was and upon observing the many scars and scratches which adorned the young man's visage, Greta guessed that Edward had been in this castle for at least a few decades, perhaps longer.

This inevitably led her to her next question.

"Are you here...all by yourself?" She asked. There was a slight sadness in her voice as if she already knew the answer.

Edward nodded slowly.

Greta sighed deeply.

"So, he is dead after all." She surmised with a slow nod of her own. Her bright gaze traveled away from Edward in a moment of deep reflection.

She hadn't really expected her great-uncle to still be alive. In fact, she knew he couldn't be from the state of his laboratory and all of the machines which had clearly not been so used in a long time.

But it was a dismal thing to imagine, her great-uncle dying in this castle, far above the town and all alone.

Well, not entirely alone.

Greta looked at Edward. She wanted to be sympathetic to him, but she also wanted as much information out of him as she could get. She had come all this way for a purpose, after all.

"…. how did he die?" She asked.

It took Edward a moment to realize who exactly she was referring to. He had been living in this castle by himself for so long, after all, he often forgot that someone else had once occupied it.

It was so long ago, but Edward did his best to remember. While the memory was far away from him, it had left him a very different man.

His creator had never really taught him about death.

All Edward knew was that people could be hurt, but also that when people closed their eyes and laid very still, that meant they were asleep.

It was only temporary, though. Sleep was not the end. They always woke up eventually.

Except his father didn't wake up.

Edward said nothing and simply downcast his gaze to the floor while Greta looked at him in sympathy. She felt a twinge of regret upon asking the question, as she was sure the memory must have been painful for Edward to re-live.

The absence of his father was felt during every moment of Edward's life. The Inventor, who had spent so much of his time with his creation, teaching him all he knew and putting him together piece by piece, was now suddenly gone. And with him, he took something away that Edward knew he could never get back.

"I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Greta mumbled apologetically.

She carefully reached out to Edward. And being mindful of the blades at the end of his arms, took him gently by the wrists and helped him up to his feet. He stood just a little taller than her and yet he seemed so much like a little boy. He looked at her with a gaze of perpetual fright, having not quite disposed himself of the shock of their first meeting. Greta tried to give him a reassuring smile.

"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. In fact…I'm so glad I found you."

Edward gave her a puzzled look, though the tension in his body was finally beginning to disappear.

"Who…are you?" He asked quietly.

"I'm Greta." She replied and instinctively shot out her hand for him to shake only to quickly pull it back in realization. She glanced awkwardly at the floor for a moment before reaching down to retrieve the old Inventor's book.

The two sat at the bottom of the winding staircase in the foyer. There was no sound, save for the occasional scratching of rodents in the far corners of the Castle.

As Edward began to daydream about the past once more, Greta was continuing to read the Inventor's book, tracing her hands carefully over every page, studying each note with intense interest. The discovery of such fascinating research compelled her to break the unnerving silence.

"This work is just…. brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I can't believe he figured all of this out by himself." She said out loud, more to herself than to Edward. Of course, she didn't object to him listening.

Edward was pulled back to the present by her words and curiously looked over at her.

"You knew him?" He asked curiously.

It was with great difficulty that Greta tore her eyes away from the book. But when she did, she slowly nodded.

"In a way…. yes. I'm…. I'm a distant relative of his." She explained. Edward watched her in close attention, silently asking her to continue.

Greta shut the book quietly and sighed.

Edward deserved a better explanation than that, though she wondered how she could even begin.

"I'm his great-niece.…but my family never talks about him. There are no pictures. No records. I don't even know his name…." She explained with a sad little laugh.

"The only reason I know he ever existed…was because I heard my parents talking one night when they thought I was asleep." Greta explained.

"I heard my dad whispering to my mom. He was talking about his Uncle who had run off a long time ago during the night, taking everything, he had with him. He said that after that night, his entire family disowned him and they never spoke about him again. Not even to say his name. All of this happened before I was even born…" She added while picking and scratching at her nails in thought.

"It took a while, but eventually I convinced my father to tell me something, anything about him. The only thing he said was that the very last thing anyone ever heard about him…. was that he was living in a Castle on a hill in the Suburbs somewhere." Greta explained.

"…. I've been looking for it ever since…." She said. "…so here I am." She added with a small gesture of her hands.

Edward blinked in fascination.

"What about your parents?" He asked naively. Greta gave her head a shake with a small scoff.

"They don't even know I'm here. As far as they know, I'm still studying at school." She explained bluntly.

"They…. they just wouldn't understand," Greta said, gently resting her forehead on her hand with a small sigh of frustration.

"Why?" Edward asked gently as he examined the bitterness that was swirling in her eyes. Greta looked at him as though the thought of the answer was paining her somehow.

"Because every single person in my family has never known what it's like to earn something." She replied, no longer caring to hide the bitterness in her voice.

"They've had wealth handed to them from birth. They've used it to make names for themselves in business or in law. But there's no passion in their work. No love for anything that they do. It's all so mechanical. They're so…well…" She tried to explain, her mind racing to cling to the right word.

"…. just like everyone else?" Edward asked.

Greta looked at him with a surprised glance.

"…. yes." She replied. He was absolutely right.

"You're so lucky to live here. There's no one here to force you into a career. No one is betting their whole retirement on the odds that you'll become rich and successful, just like them and their parents before you. It's a pattern, Edward… a cruel, vicious cycle. I wanted out of it." She explained, gesturing erratically with her hands for emphasis.

"…then I heard about my great-uncle. I couldn't believe it at first…but, now…seeing this place…. reading his work….I know he was different from everyone else in my family. He was an engineer….I suppose. An Inventor of sorts. And a brilliant one, too. I mean…. just look at all of this!" She exclaimed, her voice climbing to an echo as she gestured to all of the silent machines in the main hall.

"…and look at you, Edward." She said softly, turning to him.

"…. you were his greatest work, I bet." She continued, studying the artificial man before her with a smile.

A faint touch of red threatened to take over the pale canvas of Edward's gaunt features. Instinctively, he avoided Greta's gaze with a shy countenance.

"Th…thank you," Edward muttered bashfully with a faint smile.

Greta looked warmly at him, finding that the more time passed, the more she grew accustomed to his strange appearance. She was hardly frightened by him anymore.

"My…my family wants me to go to law school. But….I always wanted to be engineer….even before I knew about any of this."

"…. that's why you're here?" Edward asked politely. Greta nodded her head.

"It….it gives me hope…you know?" She admitted, feeling some tears beginning to form within her eyes.

"….it makes me think…. that maybe just a little bit of his brilliance…is inside of me. And that maybe…if I work hard…. I can make beautiful things too. Just like he did." She said with a faint smile and hurriedly wiped a tear away that had fallen down onto her cheek.

"I just had to see if it was true. I had to see if it was real." She explained, suddenly finding that the emotions of the discovery were finally catching up to her.

"I…I think I'll be okay…now that I know that it is."

Edward slowly nodded his head in response. He had rather enjoyed listening to Greta talk. It had been such a long time since he had had company in the Castle.

It was a strange thing, of course, to see someone who was related to his creator. In fact, her eyes were so similar to his, Edward found a comforting sense of familiarity within them.

It made him happy.


	8. Chapter 8

8

"I suppose you and I are related, then," Greta said while walking alongside Edward in the garden, past the large sculpture of a hand and various other shapes and animals. Her hands placed contemplatively in front of her skirt.

"…hm?" Edward furrowed a brow at her inquisitively.

"Well, it's a bit unusual…but if you were like his son….and I'm his great-niece…that would make us…" Greta paused briefly and made a quick calculation in her head.

"…cousins." She finished with a small smile. Edward simply blinked at her, though still remained polite as always.

The two of them were seated on one of the stone benches which overlooked the huge garden. The afternoon sun was beginning to set, casting a harsh, orange glow on all things beneath it.

As Edward's blades snipped and clicked absent-mindedly, Greta looked over at the Castle gates and sighed deeply. She supposed she had over-stayed her welcome. And in less than an hour's time, her parents would begin to wonder where she was.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I'll have to be going soon. But…. it's been wonderful. All of it. Seeing this…. meeting you…." She said while looking at him, delighted to find that he seemed to be copying her happy expression.

The Inventor's book tucked securely away in her shoulder bag, Greta fastened the straps on it and slung it over her shoulder before standing up. Edward politely followed her right up until the gates.

"Will you come back?" He asked wishfully, not unlike a child who did not want to say goodbye so soon.

"I hope so," Greta responded with a small, sad smile. She gave a regretful sigh, wishing she could stay longer before turning to face Edward once more.

"Goodbye." She said quietly and then began to make her way down the mountain.

"…..goodbye…" Edward said, his voice barely a whisper. He was grateful to have met Greta but sad to see her leave.

Fortunately, Edward did not have to wait long for Greta to return. While it had been a few days, time passed quickly for the unfinished creature. In fact, time had little relevance for him at all. His world, at the top of the mountain, was completely still and unchanging, just like himself.

And very much like a dog, who waited with unconditional patience for its owner to return, Edward was silent and uncomplaining yet overjoyed when he did, at last, see Greta from his place in the attic.

As she made her way slowly up the hill towards the gates, Edward smiled behind the broken attic window and shuffled down the stone stairs of his mansion with relative haste, not wanting to keep her waiting.

The strain of the climb up the mountain had left Greta somewhat winded and she paused for a moment in the garden to catch her breath. She was nonetheless happy to be back here. The sun had set and the air felt cool on her skin. Up here, on this hill at the end of the street and close to the clouds, it felt like some kind of dream.

A very wonderful dream.

The castle door creaked open. Edward stepped out into the moonlight from the shadows, that haunting yet beautiful pale glow falling down upon his face. He was not so monstrous like this. In fact, at one time, he was probably quite handsome.

What a shame that he had been left with such sharp objects for hands. They had clearly made their mark on what was once a serene visage, now covered in sore and jagged scars.

"Ah! Hello again!" Greta said with a small breathy smile as she tried to recollect her strength.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I meant to come back sooner but I had to think of another excuse to tell my parents. Luckily for me, they still think I'm just hitting the books."

Edward blinked at her in confusion and gave just the smallest tilt of his head.

"Hitting them?" He asked.

Greta paused and chuckled faintly.

"It's just a figure of speech." She clarified with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Perhaps it would have been more sensible to study her great-uncle's notes in the quiet of the castle laboratory. But on a night like tonight, where the moon and stars were shining so bright, and the garden sculptures seemed so alive in their glow, Greta couldn't resist remaining outside.

Edward, of course, didn't mind at all. In many ways, the garden was his own personal playground. A space to make use of in any way he saw fit. He enjoyed cutting and trimming away at his various garden creations as Greta sat cross-legged in the grass with books and journals surrounding her.

Her bright eyes closely examined every page, every scribbled note and every discovery her ancestor made during his long life at this place. His research was spellbinding. Greta may as well have fastened her hands to the old documents in her grasp as she scarcely felt the urge to put them down. One particular set of notes had captured her interest quite strongly and her eyes flew across the words with effortless curiosity.

 _June 14_ _th_

 _I regret to admit that the construction of a machine is, dare I say almost childishly simple compared to the construction of a man. The task before me is a daunting one, but I must remind myself that Edward will never come alive without my help. And I must complete his body so that his soul may soon find a home within it._

 _Upon closer examination, I can see now that this procedure is rather familiar. In truth, this is nothing but a simple surgery. Stitching the skin together, attaching it over the limbs and muscles. Yes. It is not quite unlike what a Surgeon would do._

 _Though my Edward will not be made of natural flesh, I will construct him as though he were. The materials are unconventional, but the technique remains the same._

Sometime afterward, Greta had taken a much-needed break from reading. Finding her eyes having grown quite tired from scanning so many words. (And largely technical words, at that.) She instead found herself watching Edward as he walked around the garden, trimming the bushes until they took on their desired form.

Even though the evidence of the Inventor's work was literally, right in front of her, she still could not quite grasp how he had managed to create life itself. His notes detailed many steps of the process which had been so tedious and yet so vital to Edward's construction, but the exact nature of the spark of consciousness that had brought him to life remained so mysterious.

Greta supposed the talents of her great-uncle could not be limited to just one title. He was not just as a brilliant engineer or inventor. But it seemed to her that he was also a very skilled magician of sorts.

A magician who never revealed his greatest secret.

Greta saw now that Edward was busily trimming the figure of a young woman, with her hand raised towards the sky.

"Who is she?" Greta asked innocently.

Edward's blades ceased their cutting and he became very still for a moment or two. Unknowingly, Greta had once again stumbled upon a painful memory close to Edward's heart. However, as the moment of grief passed, a small, sad smile returned to the violet lips of the unfinished creature.

"Kim," Edward answered softly, as his dark eyes twinkled with faint starlight.


	9. Chapter 9

9

Much to Edward's delight, Greta made many visits up to the castle in the weeks to come. Sometimes she could only visit one time a week. Sometimes, she could visit almost every evening. It largely depended on how convincing her ruse was. Thankfully, her parents did not possess whatever genes of brilliance Greta shared with her great-uncle. And thus, they remained completely unaware of what she was up to, or where she was always running off to in the late hours of the day.

One night, Greta was examining all of the machines in the laboratory section of the Castle. Sticking a pen in her mouth, she reached out to touch and inspect all of the mechanical parts, jotting down notes as she went along. She certainly looked the part of an engineering prodigy; eager to know all of these inner workings as intimately as she could, so that one day, she too could create beautiful things in their image.

Of course, she could never hope to dream of making someone like Edward. That clearly required far more skill than she was capable of. She was mostly certain of that.

Edward was watching her with great interest of his own. The mere presence of another living person within the castle was fascinating enough to him. He never once complained when she would grow silent during her observations. While Edward enjoyed being her attentive listener, he understood perhaps better than anyone that words were not always necessary.

"You said you got these machines to work before, Edward?" Greta suddenly asked, breaking the disquieting silence. Her voice echoed and receded several times within the large, stone chamber.

Edward gave a nod of his head.

"Yes…but…. I think I broke it..." He responded in a small, sad little voice.

"I see…" Greta replied with a small frown.

Crouching down to examine the underside of the conveyor belt, a small metal object suddenly caught her attention. Had it not been for the strange place in which it had been, she might not have noticed it at all. But Greta found that a large coil of wire had been lodged within the gears which made the entire line run.

"Wait…." She observed out loud. She briefly examined her pockets, only to find that she had left most of her tools at home.

As an idea suddenly flashed into her mind, Greta hesitantly gave Edward a small, sheepish look.

"Um…Edward? Could you come here for a moment please?" She asked as politely as she could.

Edward obediently shuffled towards her, crouching down to meet her at eye level.

"You see that there?" Greta said as she pointed to the coiled mess of wire caught in the conveyor belt gears.

Edward nodded.

"Could you cut that loose for me?" Greta asked. She hoped that she wasn't coming across as rude, and would very well understand if Edward refused. He wasn't a tool, after all.

However, compliantly, Edward reached up and with a snip of his sharp blades, cut the tangled wires, causing them to fall from the machine and onto the dust-covered floor below.

"Thank you!" Greta exclaimed with a smile. Edward affectionately coped it.

"Now…if I could just find the switch…." Greta pondered out loud as her eyes scanned the great machine before her.

"…um…" Edward said softly, drawing Greta's gaze to him. He pointed with a long, metal talon towards the start of the conveyor belt.

"Oh, of course!" Greta exclaimed before leaning down and pressing on the small, red button.

Standing up to her feet and returning to Edward's side, the two of them watched the large machines in front of them with great anticipation.

Sure enough, with a loud clattering sound, the entire factory was up and running again. The working parts and metallic structures all moving and working together fiercely in a choreographed dance of wires and gears.

Greta laughed in amazement and clasped her hands together in front of her chin liked an excited school girl. Edward was not quite as delighted, having seen all of these machines work before. But he was nonetheless proud of their combined efforts to resurrect his father's machines once more.

Edward gave a proud little smile, one which Greta copied affectionately.

A little while later, Edward was watching the machines whir and buzz like they had when his father was alive. It was a welcome sight to see; one which brought back many fond memories.

Seeing this, Edward could almost pretend that he was new again. How he longed to return to those early times when life was so precious and simple. When the castle had been his one and only world. And his days spent being read to by his creator while basking in warm sunlight by a drafty window.

Edward felt a sudden, sharp pain in his left arm and gasped in surprise.

He looked down to find that while he had been so carelessly daydreaming of the past, he had stumbled just a little too close to one of his father's old machines. And in doing so, had been stabbed by a large pair of steel scissors that were attached to the large apparatus.

Had his injury not been so severe, he might have appreciated the irony of the situation. However, he couldn't quite feel his arm anymore. And a dark liquid was dripping out of the large gash in the leather. It wasn't red like blood, however. This was something else.

Edward looked around frantically for Greta as his vision began to blur and his heart thumped at a dangerous pace.

"G…Greta? Greta?" He called out into the dark of the castle but heard only his own voice echoing back towards him.

Greta was jotting down an equation she had found in one of the Inventor's old books, which had been stashed away in another room of the castle. The motion of her pen stopped abruptly however when she could just barely discern the sound of Edward's voice calling out to her.

He had never done this before. Something was wrong.

Greta turned around and rushed outside of the room back into the main chamber.

She found Edward sitting on the floor, clutching his arm and in doing so, only causing more injury to it. Around him was a small pool of thick, black liquid which was pulsating out of his arm. Edward looked up at Greta with an expression full of guilt and fear.

"Oh my god! Edward! What happened?!" Greta exclaimed as she knelt down to examine him.

"I-I…. hurt myself…" He said. His voice was barely a whisper.

Greta inspected the large wound in his arm. Whatever was coming out of him, it definitely wasn't blood. However, this was not necessarily a relief. Edward's biology was certainly much different than her own.

She needed to fix him. Though she wasn't sure if she could, she would at least pretend to know how, if only to reassure Edward for the time being.

"It's gonna be all right, Edward…I'll help you up. Here…" She reached down, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and placing her other hand on his belt, she gently hoisted him up to his feet.

Her eyes scanning the room quickly, Greta saw her great-uncle's work table and walked Edward over to it, being careful not to injure him further.

"Now I'm going to put you down on this table…. ready?" Greta asked gently.

Edward nodded.

"One…two…. three!" Their strengths combined, Edward managed to fall down onto the table, facing upwards. A wave of nostalgia crashed over him as he suddenly recalled lying at this table in a very similar way for many days when he was new.

Even at this critical moment, he was still thinking about the past. Always looking behind, but never forward.

"Did that hurt?" Greta asked as she brushed her hair out of her face, looking down at Edward in concern.

Edward shook his head. Fortunately, shock had numbed most of his pain away.

Greta ran over to her bag which was laying on the Inventor's desk. She reached into it and pulled out some of the books she had been taking notes on. Setting them down beside Edward, she flipped through them furiously.

She could fix Edward if she could figure out what he was made out of. That precious information had to be somewhere in one of these books.

"I'm sorry, Edward…I know it was in here somewhere…. I'm hurrying…. just…. just sit tight." She talked to him in the most reassuring voice she could manage.

At last, she found it. The notes which explained in great detail how her great-uncle had sutured Edward together. How he had laid scraps of leather over top of metallic limbs and gears and bound them together with wires and straps.

And most importantly, it detailed the formula for the elusive dark liquid which gave power to the internal gears and metal organs beneath his leathery flesh.

She had everything she needed now. She could do this.

Of course, she had little choice.

"There. Okay…." After hastily tying her hair back into a messy ponytail, Greta examined the desk, leaving no space unsearched. She gathered straps of belted leather in her arms, along with metal buckles and pieces of wire. And in addition to those, was a long spool of sturdy thread and a sewing needle.

Within one of the lower compartments of the desk, Greta found a small canister with no name that was covered in dust. But upon twisting the rusted lid open, she could see the liquid inside did indeed match what had spilled out of Edward's arm.

Setting the materials down beside him, Greta quickly got to work. However, it was a clumsy first effort. And she could barely stop her hands from shaking. She failed a couple of times to correctly bind his wound and sighed loudly in frustration.

His physiology was so different than hers, she may as well have been administering to a being from another planet entirely.

No. Greta firmly said to herself.

Edward was not that different. He had organs. He had skin. They just didn't look like hers.

She suddenly remembered her great-uncle's notes with vivid recollection.

 _The materials are unconventional, but the technique remains the same._

Greta took a deep breath. Edward watched her intently.

"You're going to be okay, Edward," Greta repeated softly. But this time, she knew that it was true.

As she began to calm herself in the patterns of the work, Greta carefully poured the dark liquid into the wound, restoring the gears and metal cogs beneath it. She then attached a generous layer of leather to his arm and then proceeded to sew it to him with the needle and thread with great care and caution.

"Almost done, Edward," Greta said out loud.

Taking a knife on from the desk, she quickly cut the loose thread and examined the arm closely one last time. The arm appeared to be fixed. Greta sighed gently in relief.

"There. Just like new." She said with a smile.

Edward looked down at his arm and moved it slowly up and down, finding to his reprieve that he could feel it again. He looked up at Greta and smiled.

"Thank you." He said.

"You're welcome," Greta replied, still shaking but sighing in relief.


	10. Chapter 10

10

Greta gently pushed the front door open with her foot as she tried to balance a generous pile of books in her arms. Making her way over to the desk, she set them down with a loud thud and exhaled in relief.

It hadn't been easy to carry all of this up the hill with her, but it was worth it.

This was the last of her research. The very last books she could find. But these were not the journals of her great uncle, nor did they contain his research.

It was the history of the area, the mountain and the castle which sat upon it. All of it was here. Or at least, everything that she could find.

She would dig into these books later. For now, it was time to say hello to her unfinished friend, who she had not seen for a few days now.

Edward was sitting in the attic, as he often did. Stock still in the worn leather chair beneath the fireplace, contemplating the past and the future.

He heard footsteps approach the attic and stood to attention, his spine snapping straight in an instant like some wind-up toy.

To his relief, it was only Greta. Edward smiled softly at her.

"Hello, Edward." Greta chirped while briefly surveying the attic around him. She had visited this place only once while searching for more of her ancestor's books.

Her eyes landed on the messy collage of newspaper clippings attached to the chair. Greta quirked a brow in curiosity.

"What's this?" She asked, amused as she approached the chair for a better look.

Edward shuffled back a few steps, dark eyes lowering slightly, as though embarrassed.

"…things I've found…" He replied, gesturing vaguely to the torn-up newspapers that were scattered in a circle at the base of the chair.

Greta tucked some hair behind her ear and scanned the pictures in front of her carefully. Soon, a pattern began to appear before her eyes. All of these images seemed to represent objects and things that Edward wanted. A cluttered tapestry of all of the desires of his heart.

A normal home. A normal family. A normal life.

Normal hands.

From Edward's timid reaction, clearly, this was all quite personal to him. And Greta allowed herself a moment of shame for having looked so closely at these guarded wishes. But she was also struck with emotion and a deep longing to help her incomplete companion, who stood just as still as the dead.

Edward had no chance of a normal life. Not so long as those blades were attached to him.

Could she give him that chance? Was it within her ability to fix him? To give him real hands, just as his creator had always meant to?

She did not know. But she could try.

"Edward…" Greta began as she approached him in as gentle and sensitive a manner as she was capable; all while choosing her next words very wisely.

"….I….have an idea…" Greta began. Edward watched her with cautious, yet inquisitive eyes.

"….but I don't know if it'll work." She continued, avoiding Edward's gaze. She was not at all sure how to tell Edward this.

The unfinished creature stared back at Greta, giving her silent permission to continue.

"I….I'd like to try and….fix you," Greta said, her eyes finally making their way to his, albeit nervously.

Regret immediately plagued her mind and she screwed her eyes shut in frustration.

"Erm…no! I mean…you're not broken…. that's not what I meant! I…I…." Greta stammered before pausing with a sigh, forcing herself to make eye contact with Edward once again, while he stared back at her in confusion.

"What I'm trying to say is…" Greta began, before pausing reluctantly.

"…. I want to finish you."

The words sounded far more bizarre and oddly intimate than Greta could have ever intended. However, from the look in Edward's eyes, it was clear he understood her.

"Really?" He asked innocently. Dark eyes widening with hope and relief.

"Yes," Greta replied with a sincere nod of her head.

"I….I've looked over his notes…and….I think if I follow them….I might be able to make your hands." She said, briefly recalling the formulas and equations in her mind.

"It….it shouldn't be too hard. I….I think I can do it." Greta said though the trembling of her voice betrayed whatever confidence she may have had.

Edward looked upon her, radiating with the belief and strength that Greta so desperately needed now.

"You can." Edward simply said, a small smile tugging on his violet lips.

They were only two little words, but they were enough to banish every feeling of doubt Greta had. She smiled widely at Edward and without thinking, ran to embrace him.

"Oh, Edward! Thank you! I….I won't let you down! I promise!" She exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around him.

Edward gasped slightly in surprise at such a jovial display of affection. But it had been so long since he had been held by anyone, he soon welcomed it. Of course, he did not dare attempt to return the embrace, out of fear of cutting the woman who was promising to make him complete.

"Oh…I'm sorry," Greta said, upon feeling Edward tensing at her touch and soon let go of him.

"I…" She smiled and put a hand over her mouth to hide it. She could hardly believe it herself, but she was actually blushing with pride.

"…. thank you for believing in me, Edward. It means so much." She said.

"You're welcome," Edward replied with a small smile.


	11. Chapter 11

11

"Okay, Edward. I'm going to take some measurements. Try to be still, if you can." Said Greta, as she pulled out a tape measurer from her bag and held it parallel to Edward's arm, wrist and metal blades where hands were intended to be.

Edward was fortunately very talented at keeping still and gave Greta no trouble with the process whatsoever.

While Greta began carefully measuring and assessed the proportions of Edward's limbs, a profound question randomly sprang to her brain.

"Edward?" She asked quietly.

"Did…your father ever tell you…. why you were made?"

Though it was such a significant and deeply profound question, the answer had truthfully never crossed Edward's mind.

All he had ever known, was that one day, he had woken up, and had been alive ever since.

He dwelled on the query for just a moment before slowly shaking his head. He could recall no such explanation from his maker. Edward knew his memories well, but that was not one of them. And he was quite certain of that.

"Hm…maybe it's not important. Maybe it's just enough that you're here." Greta assured with a small smile, in an attempt to reassure any existential thoughts which might have arisen in her unfinished friend's mind.

That was one of many things which Greta had hoped to find in her great-uncle's notes but had not. If it had ever existed in writing, it was probably long gone now. Forgotten in some dusty place that even Edward did not know about.

Could it really have been so simple? Did the old man create a living person just to prove that he could?

Somehow, Greta doubted that was the case.

"All right. That should be good." Greta said while placing the tape down at the table next to her and began jotting down the measurements while she could still recall them. Edward curiously watched.

"Oh, you can move now." She said, re-emerging from an absent thought and beginning to tie her hair up in preparation for work.

Edward relaxed his arms and let them drop to his sides. It still didn't quite feel real: the promise of receiving hands, just as he had always meant to.

Having been denied them for so long, it felt like just another one of his daydreams. A fantasy that would never reach reality.

And yet, here she was…the great-niece of his creator, busily scribbling away at notes, in that same familiar way he always had.

Greta came to the castle as often as she could, but even so, her progress on Edward's hands was not moving as quickly as she had hoped.

She could now very clearly understand why her ancestor had finished these parts of Edward last. Until now, Greta had always taken for granted how complex hands actually were. They seemed so simple, but in truth were so complicated in design. The way the fingers flexed, the tendons pulled and the muscles reacted to the brain's impulses. It was all so deeply challenging; her mind was often left swimming in doubt. After long hours of labour, she would have very little to show for it. A few scraps of metal and synthetic flesh laying purposelessly on the work table in front of her, but nothing more.

Greta often found herself studying her own hands more intimately than she ever had before, just to get every little piece right. If even one molecule of the hand was out of place, they would not work. The appendage would be merely a cheap imitation of a hand and nothing more.

Greta wanted to give Edward perfect hands. Ones that were indistinguishable from the real thing.

She could figure it out. It was all here in writing, right before her eyes. Every step. Every part of the process.

She just had to concentrate.

After many sleepless nights spent in the nearly empty castle, Greta had finally managed to piece together two appendages that were slowly beginning to resemble human hands. Edward had watched her progress from afar, not wishing to disturb her. But when he saw her work beginning to take that familiar shape, he would find himself smiling in excitement, just like that Winter's morning so many years ago.

One night, Greta's mind was becoming too full of equations and formulas, as it often did. She had had her fill of piecing together metal springs and wires and layering over the synthetic skin on top of them. Her brain craved other stimulation. Anything. Absolutely anything but this.

Greta sighed softly to herself and ran her hands over top of her eyes, rubbing them harshly in an attempt to keep herself awake.

She glanced over at the large pile of books that she had brought with her to the castle several days ago. Thinking of no other way to ease her boredom at the moment, she began casually flipping through them. Page after page of news articles. There were plenty of resources on the neighbourhood below and how it had come to be, but there was almost no information on the mountain, or the castle, or when it had been built, as Greta had hoped.

However, there was one page that was littered with cut out newspaper headlines. Front page stories that had once been sensational but now rendered old and uninteresting by the passage of time.

Greta was just about to shut the book, having scanned far too many boring headlines for her own liking, until her eyes traced across some bold, black words that made the blood in her veins run cold.

"YOUTH MURDERED AT ABANDONED CASTLE IN SUBURBS."

Greta's jaw dropped in shock. It was a chilling headline to read and yet she was utterly compelled to learn more. Her eyes scanned down the lines, absorbing every word with wide-eyed interest. That is until she got to the words that made her stomach turn in horror.

"… _during the confrontation, Jim had been fatally stabbed and fell out of one of the Castle windows. His killer, the scissor-handed man known only by the locals as "Edward", perished in the fight as well, as the roof of the castle had collapsed on top of him. Police arrived shortly afterwards to remove the body. The Castle was briefly searched, but a second body was never found._ "

The book slipped out of Greta's hands and fell back onto the desk with a loud bang. Greta felt her heart thumping in its chest. A thousand impulses to flee the castle immediately assaulted her body and mind, and yet she remained frozen where she sat.

While her mind screamed at her to run away from this place, Edward had heard the loud sound and was half-way down the stairs to investigate it.

Greta felt her breath catch in her throat and whirled around in her chair to look at Edward. She visibly trembled with fear.

Edward noticed this. His inquisitive gaze became one of great confusion.

"…Greta?" He asked quietly.

Greta slowly rose from her seat and walked cautiously towards the bottom of the stairs. She stopped next to the large, stone phantom and did not dare take a step further. She scarcely blinked as she stared up at this man. This thing. This creature that had killed a man in cold blood.

For the first time since the two of them had met, Greta was terrified for her life.

"…. Edward?" She asked, her voice shaking violently with fear.

"….is it true?" She asked. In her heart, she already knew the answer. But some foolish part of her did not want to believe it.

"….did you….kill someone?" She asked. The words left her mouth in fragments. She was breathing quite heavily in between them and standing on the threshold of an insurmountable anxiety attack.

Edward barely moved but his face said everything Greta needed to know. Lowering his eyes to the ground, a great wave of guilt and shame began to consume him. And once again, his gaze became full of memory.

"Oh my god…" Greta muttered in horror, taking a few steps back, her eyes never leaving the unfinished man for a single moment.

"…Greta…" Edward began, moving slightly towards her.

"No! Stay away from me!" Greta exclaimed with her hand raised to him as she began to back away and bolted across the main chamber to the work desk. She had just enough sense in her to grab the unfinished hands, along with their materials and throw them hastily away into her bag before running towards the door, desperately holding back tears as she did.

Edward felt frozen to the floor. Too shocked to move. Too surprised to speak. Though he did manage to utter two little words, not unlike the way he had done so, all those years ago when he had first been found.

"Don't…go…" He said, his voice just barely rising above a whisper. It was a sad, pleading voice of a little boy who did not want to be left alone in the dark again.

Greta began to sob and hastily brushed away some tears as she passed through the door. She didn't even bother to close it behind her as she ran through the garden and down the mountain path.

She did not intend to return.


	12. Chapter 12

12

In the weeks that came to pass, Greta had tried as hard as she could to forget all about her great-uncle's flawed creation, hiding in that castle high above the town. Waiting there all alone and hoping for her to come back.

It was a painful thought. One which she fought a hard battle to ignore.

Greta buried herself in her school work and scarcely allowed herself a moment to focus on anything else. But almost everything would trigger a memory, or make her think of that unfinished man in the castle again.

Her mother would take a pair of kitchen scissors out of the drawer. Her father would trim the hedges with garden shears. It did not seem to matter where Greta went, the memories followed and plagued her from everywhere.

She had stashed away all of her notes and her great-uncle's books far under her bed, away and out of sight. But sometimes, one of her small, handwritten notes would fall out of her school book and she'd be reminded of everything all over again.

Call it fate, karma, luck…. Or some greater force entirely, Greta was forcibly being reminded of Edward and his home on top of that desolate mountain, every single day.

To the point where she could no longer ignore it.

Despite all the different ways Greta re-read the news headline in her mind, there was nothing about this discovery that she could make any sense of.

She herself had read every page of her great-uncle's notes. The proof of Edward's benevolence was all there, in front of her eyes. He simply had not been made to do harm. It was impossible. He had been given a pure soul and a body that had been meticulously stitched together with nothing but good and loving intentions.

Her ancestor had created a man. And at one time, perhaps that had been true.

But Greta could not completely free herself from the suspicion that over the years, stagnating in his isolation, Edward may have become unstable.

What if his mind had deteriorated into hostility? The urge to kill becoming too great, once discovering how easy it was for him to destroy anything.

Greta had to remind herself frequently that even though he very much acted like it, Edward was not human. He was not a person in the same way that she was. Rather, a mechanical creation with thoughts and instincts that were far different than her own.

And from how little he spoke, there was no way to know exactly what he was thinking at any given moment.

And to think, she had been so quick to help him the other day in the chamber. Would she have done the same, if she knew what she did now?

Had she unknowingly saved the life of a merciless killer?

Even so, there was a part of Greta that desperately wanted to deny it. How could Edward, who had been so frightened at the first sight of her, the same man who had made all of those beautiful hedge animals and ice sculptures, who was so shy and acted so much like a child, be even capable, much less guilty of murder?

Perhaps that boy's death had been an accident. Perhaps not. And Greta was beginning to wonder if it any longer mattered.

She had grown so tired of thinking about this, but her brain could not focus on anything else.

There was nothing to be done about the past. But here, now…in the present, where it was within her ability to do something, Greta realized that she had a very difficult decision to make.

Despite all of her overthinking and ignoring of the problem, something had to be done.

She could call the police. The phone was right there on her desk, mere inches away from her hand.

She could do nothing and simply let the memory of Edward and the castle fade away.

Or she could keep her promise to him.

Her mind dwelled just a little too long on that last possibility, tracing over all of its implications and consequences until she was sick to her stomach with it.

Reaching under her bed, Greta pulled out the largest book. She opened it slowly to the drawings of Edward. All of the stages of his construction neatly displayed in ink on ancient parchment.

She flipped to the last page.

It was Edward: handsome and un-scarred. Shiny and new. He was fully made, complete with regular, human hands.

Greta's eyes began to fill with tears again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Authors Note** : Here it is, folks. The last Chapter. I had such a blast writing this story. And as much as I would have loved to have continued it, I felt that this was a natural place for it to end. It feels right.

I actually cried while writing this chapter so I hope that might be some indicator that it's good or even emotional in some way. I sincerely hope you've enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. And thank you for your support :) You know who you are!

13

Weeks passed, but Edward remained the same. He never changed. And he never would.

He had barely moved since Greta had left the castle. He sat uselessly in the old chair beneath the fireplace, sometimes for several hours without moving. Not even to blink, or breathe.

The silence of the castle was even more harrowing on this night. Edward thought that if he stayed here for even another day, it might consume him completely.

He couldn't blame Greta for running away. It was to be expected. If the past had taught Edward anything, it was that their friendship had not been made to last.

He had made many friends at one time, in that pretty little town below. But eventually, one by one, they all turned against him.

They feared him, just as Greta did now, for the very same reasons.

Unwillingly, Edward was now doomed to live forever in a world that had entirely forgotten him.

For the very first time in years uncounted, he wished he had never been made.

And yet, he did not feel compelled to end his own life.

It was simply not in his nature to do so, for his father had instilled within him a great curiosity for life.

Edward had not been built for self-destruction. A piece of his creator's mind lived within his own. And that fragment contained the very same passion for living that the Inventor had been afflicted with in life.

It was never supposed to be this way. He was never supposed to be left with these horrible blades, that had no right to be called hands at all.

Perhaps he may stop working someday, and finally be gifted some relief from his pain.

The unfinished creature had become so lost in his own mind, he had barely noticed footsteps lightly traveling up the stairs and towards the attic.

When Greta appeared in the archway of the attic, it took Edward several moments to respond to her. He truly did not believe that she would ever return.

He had so resigned himself to a long and endless future to which he would fade away from all living memory, never to be seen or spoken of again.

But now she was here again. Standing there, with a box in her hands. Edward simply stared at her in surprise, hardly blinking.

Greta sighed, but very slowly a smile began to appear on her lips.

"Hello, Edward." She said, somewhat sadly as she began to recall her last, angry words to him.

With some degree of caution, Edward slowly stood up from his chair. He failed to completely trust what his eyes were seeing. And he remained almost deadly still, as though this were some kind of trick or trap.

Greta could perfectly understand his apprehension. When she last left this place, she had made a firm and rigid decision to never come back.

But minds change. And so do hearts.

Her eyes hid from Edward's gaze for a couple of uncomfortable moments as she slowly approached him, but stopped at an appropriate distance.

As his discomfort grew, Edward felt a strong urge to speak. He still had much to explain, about his past, about what had happened…if she would let him.

"Greta…." He began.

"Ah, ah!" Greta interrupted firmly with a finger to the air as she looked up at Edward with a soft, sympathetic gaze.

"….I made a promise." She explained simply.

She had been mistaken. There was no monster here. Her fear had created one from nothing.

In her panic, she had reacted harshly but had failed to look closer.

It wasn't until she had found herself crying and contemplating over her great-uncle's notes, that she realized something vital. And despite herself, was deeply surprised to discover it.

She no longer cared what had happened in the past. The only thing that mattered, was this moment.

And right now, she did not see a creature or a killer.

She only saw a kind and very gentle man, who was only one part away from becoming whole and complete.

Just as his creator had always intended.

With great care, Greta set the box she had been holding down to the floor. She bent down to lift the lid and place it down beside the box. Gingerly, she reached into it and pulled out a pair of beautiful, well crafted and very real, hands.

Standing up straight, Greta slowly walked towards Edward while holding the hands up for him to see. There was a small, proud smile written across her face. But it was an apology, more than an offering. One which she hoped Edward would accept.

Edward's dark eyes widened in amazement. Being offered a pair of hands, as a gift for the second time, and by the great-niece of his maker….it did not even feel real.

He reached out slowly with one of his blades. The metal made gentle contact with the synthetic material. They were even more life-like than the ones his creator had made.

And he could touch them, as best as he could. They were real after all.

Edward looked at Greta with an unsure gaze. Was he deserving of such a gift? Had they really been made for him?

If there was any possible way for him to express just how grateful he was, Edward surely would have done so.

But words were not enough. They utterly failed to represent his heart in this moment.

Greta smiled tearfully at him and nodded as if she could read his thoughts.

"….do you like them?" She asked, her voice shaking just a little in anticipation as a few stray tears rolled down her cheeks.

Edward smiled at her.

The End


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